capitalism

"What does feminism, or sexism, mean in a vacuum?"

Debbie Rasmussen — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 13:14:18 -0400

Another amazingly articulate, thoughtful, critical analysis of "feminism" by Jess Hoffmann... Here's a snippet, but please please go read the rest.

I see a lot of people who say they believe in “intersectionality” talk about it kind of like this: Since some women are people of color, and some women are poor, and some women are queer, it’s important for feminism to take an intersectional approach that recognizes the way some women experience sexism and racism, or sexism and economic exploitation, or sexism and homophobia, or other such combinations. And then maybe they’ll go a step further, and say something about how, for women of color, sexism and racism aren’t just two separate forms of oppression experienced simultaneously, but are intertwined in really complicated ways. So, a lot of self-identified supporters of intersectionality will say, if feminism is going to be a movement by and for all women, it needs to look at how all forms of oppression, not just sexism, play out in different women’s lives. And I think that’s all true and good.

But I think a feminist politic of intersectionality goes deeper than that. To me, the really key thing about intersectionality is connecting the above analysis around individuals’ lived experiences to the insight that all systems of power are interconnected. So it’s not just that some individual people experience multiple forms of oppression, or even that all people have some kind of personal relationship with all systems of oppression (for instance, as a white woman, I experience sexism on the oppressed side, and white supremacy on the side of privilege), but also that the systems of power themselves—racism, economic hierarchy, sexism, heteronormativity, ableism, etc.—are working together.

Take, for instance, violence against women. While self-identified feminists earnestly question whether this or that is or should be or isn’t really a feminist issue, I don’t think anyone would really question that violence against women is properly, unequivocally, a feminist concern. I also don’t know how we could even try to understand, let alone resist and transform, a culture of widespread violence against women without looking at a culture of general violence, a culture that uses violence to maintain hierarchies of all forms. How could we think about, let alone challenge and offer alternatives to, violence of any kind without looking at how violence (of all forms and against women specifically) is connected to militarism and colonialism, which are connected to the spread and global imposition of both white supremacy and neoliberal capitalism, which … I could go in a slew of different directions with this.

Which is why I believe we must simultaneously challenge all forms of unjust power to achieve any kind of liberation. Which is why I’d like to believe pro-capitalist feminism is an oxymoron.

Capitalism is a huge part of how/why the world has been colonized. Antiracist feminism must be anticolonial feminism must be a feminism that resists capitalism — not just because the effects of capitalism are damaging to individual women, but because capitalism, as a system of power, is connected to sexism, to racism, to …

Go here to read the rest.

Enough! Resisting Capitalism

Debbie Rasmussen — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 13:45:18 -0400

Thanks to Jessica Hoffmann for alerting me to a new project I'm thrilled to spread the word about:

Enough: The Personal Politics of Resisting Capitalism

Enough is a space for conversations about creating shared values and practices around wealth redistribution, how to sustain grassroots movements, how to resist capitalism in our everyday lives.

Please go there now! Read, comment, send your thoughts and ideas, submit your essays, and spread the word...

Assorted thoughts on Pride, weddings, and capitalism

Lisa Jervis — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 15:14:06 -0400

Last night I went out to my neighborhood queer bar, the White Horse Inn, to see the East Bay Kings put on the most kick-ass drag show ever. It was not only the runup to the enormous Pride festivities in San Francisco, but also the farewell performance of Neil Down, who is seriously out-of-control fantabulous.

The mood was raucous and joyful, bolstered even more by the presence of a young couple celebrating their wedding, which had taken place earlier that day.

Now is the time to talk about my mixed feelings about gay marriage. I mean, of course I support it, since the alternative is to oppose it, which would be...wrong. But I cringe at the sheer volume of resources that have gone into fighting for marriage instead of, say, health care and other rights that should not be dependent on relationship status. Sometimes I feel churlish about that—and, as someone who did actually once use straight privilege to take advantage of the easy path to relationship legitimacy that marriage offers, more than a little hypocritical. And sometimes I find radical arguments against the support of gay marriage unrealistic; in practice, it's not like we're actually going to get a more just society for queers or other marginalized folks without an intermediate step like marriage rights. And the resources being used for the marriage fight would not be available to agitate for affordable housing, a living wage, or universal heath care; those issues have, for the most part, a different (and less wealthy) set of supporters than the marriage equality movement.

But when I read this account of California businesses preparing to extend the wedding industrial-complex to same-sex couples, the relationship between marriage, assimilation, profiteering, and consumerism was made crystal clear. The revulsion I felt upon reading about grooms shopping for "the perfect diamond" as if a hunk of compressed carbon extracted by one of world history's most damaging industries can validate a relationship, and companies poised to offer "organic framboise ganaches, Russian River honeymoon canoe trips and Gay Palm Springs hotel packages with rose petals, Champagne, [and] two souvenir pillows embroidered with the couples’ first names," made arguments like Gay Shame's newly resonant.

But being part of a crowd of baby dykes, low femmes, genderbenders, and assorted other queers cheering madly for the stylings of the Kings and also for the pair of early-20s women sitting at the side of the stage, one in a white spaghetti strap dress and the other in a dapper white suit, the issue felt even more complicated. I couldn't help but feel moved by the historic nature of the moment, and the emotional connection between social institutions and cultural acceptance within, among, and between communities. Yet another example of the kyriarchy in action (h/t to Sudy for introducing me to this term). But does rejecting the kyriarchal forces that have made marriage equality such a priority (and some would say a necessary one) mean rejecting the powerful beauty of witnessing moments like this? I hope not. But I can't say I know either way.

Board of Education

Kyla — Wed, 31 Aug 2005 20:00:00 -0400

Each semester in my American popular culture class, my students and I spend a night playing board games. I start them off with games for small children, like memory cards or Strawberry Shortcake adventure games. They play self-consciously, giggling at the losers who can’t master a game for preschoolers, but loosen up enough to start looking beyond the activity for the deeper meanings.

Then I bring out the big guns—Clue, Life, and Monopoly. The students invariably light up, lose all discomfort, and fight over who gets to play Monopoly, seizing on favorite game pieces like the Scottie dog or the race car. Instead of leaving at 9:30, we all hang around, watching the game with glee, urging the players to buy houses, groaning when someone goes to jail, admiring a particularly crafty strategy.

On the surface, Monopoly is all about buying, acquiring, jumping from purchase to purchase, and hoping to build some solid ground under your feet—which quickly turns to thoughts of expansion, empire building, and total world domination. Sound familiar? But the game’s structure also allows for all kinds of individual modifications. One of my personal favorites is the practice of paying all the fees into the middle of the board and creating a free-parking jackpot, but my students always seem shocked—almost betrayed—that this isn’t sanctioned by the game’s official rules. Economists who have studied the way Monopoly is played have found that with each variation, the strategic elements of the game are weakened, and the possibilities for luck and chance blossom.

Monopoly emerged in the dark days of the mid-1930s, a time when doubts about America’s future ran rampant. I like to read my students a quote from literary magazine the Sun, from an author remembering when Monopoly burst onto the scene and “players became utterly engrossed in the game, handling huge sums of money, buying houses and hotels, wheeling and dealing, shouting and laughing, feeling rich and powerful for one night.” Doesn’t part of the game’s appeal result from watching other people go bankrupt, taking pleasure in the survival of the fittest, in a kind of ethical flexibility that is the United States’ trademark in the world today?

I ask my students: Does a business-style monopoly ever really happen in the game, or are you encouraged to place your wealth in what Americans have always relied on, from Scarlett O’Hara to the Western pioneers—land?

I say all of these things and more, and my students pretend to listen, but I get sucked into the fun of the game every semester, offering to be the banker, laughing and cheering on different students as they go for broke or win the jackpot. We stay late each night, and groan in resignation when we realize that the game has to end.

Jackie Regales writes frequently on motherhood, activism, feminism, and social justice from a cozy row house in Baltimore.